Aftermath
by btvshond
Summary: Manga-based. What happens after the London battle. 1 Seras and Pip watch over the mercenaries 2 Integra and the Round Table discuss Walter's fate 3 Anderson waits for his verdict 4 Walter reflects 5 Alucard savours freedom
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Graveyard

Seras felt Pip Bernadette stir inside her. It was a strange feeling, knowing he was just a soul, but was still tangible. Somehow.

_What is it?_ she asked.

Pip shrugged, or gave the impression of doing so.

_Ah, mignonette._ He tried to sound lighthearted. _It's a little surreal attending one's own funeral._

Seras sighed. Of course. The funeral was surreal to her as well. For her, there was a sense of déjà vu. It wasn't too long ago when they had a funeral like this, soon after the Valentines' ambush.

This time, it was the mercenaries who were given a proper burial.

They were only mercenaries, but as Seras once heard Integra say, they were her men too. They had fought and died for Hellsing, when all sorts of adversaries, both the fanatical and the insane, attacked London.

_Mignonette…_

_Mr. Bernadette, please stop calling me that. My name is Seras._

Pip chuckled a little. "This from the girly who calls me Mr. Bernadette. My name is Pip.

Seras mulled over this.

_Pip._

_Better._ and he continued. _Is Sir Integra going to collapse?_

Seras glanced at the solitary figure who stood some way off. _No. She's tired, that's all._

Seras doubted that Integra had slept much. Four days had passed after the battle, during which Integra had been busy contacting the other knights and making sure the Queen was safe. Seras had helped, but it wasn't the same without Walter.

But Walter wasn't with them. It had taken Alucard some effort to capture Walter, or the shell of him. Alucard had said that he would prefer the thing dead, but he knew Integra might be… displeased. So Alucard had simply taken away Walter's deadly wires and locked him in the basement of the Hellsing headquarters.

Integra hadn't said much, but Seras could tell she was grieving.

She thought, If Walter's here, he'll be giving the eulogy. Just like last time…

Now, Integra was struggling for words as Seras and the surviving mercenaries watched on.

"They… they were men from another country. They signed up to destroy monsters for England… They didn't sign up for crusades or holocausts."

Integra grimaced.

"They were caught in a war and fought bravely and killed the monsters that invaded Hellsing. For the men who laid down their lives for England and Queen, salute!"

And everyone obeyed.

When they left, Seras said softly to Pip.

_She's right you know._

_What?_

_You didn't sign them up for crusades or holocausts._

Pip was silent for awhile.

_Perhaps._ was all the reply he gave, but it sounded sad.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Palace

"Gentlemen," Integra said evenly, "Won't it be better to settle things calmly?"

Hardwin Howard, however, was desperate.

"Calmly!" he said bitterly, "You talk about settling things calmly."

Integra looked at him pensively. She would not be deterred from her plans to bring Walter back to his human self, or at least, his human consciousness, especially by emotional yelling.

But she could not begrudge Howard's rudeness. He had been unfortunate enough to be caught in the midst of the battle that night. What he saw, she believed, would forever sear in his memory.

She tried to be patient.

"We're only talking about Walter here, Sir Hardwin."

"Who's been turned into a monster, in case you forget." Hardwin said sarcastically. "Might I remind you, Sir Integra, that your loyalties lie with Her Majesty and England, and not a mere butler."

There were murmurs of agreement from some of the other knights.

Integra frowned.

"Walter's not a mere butler. He served England well, all the way back to the Second World War. Surely, you should grant that we at least try to save him."

Derek Islands spoke up.

"Given Walter's current condition, he might not want to be saved in the first place."

"I have considered it Sir Derek." Integra replied. "However, we… observed that Walter's more like a machine now. It seems that the Millennium has completely wiped out his abilities to think or feel. Without the Millennium's influence, he is quite harmless. You can trust us with him. Haven't we shown our capabilities by saving London?"

"Not before it was practically destroyed." Hardwin pointed out bitterly.

Integra grimaced. Yes, well, she couldn't argue with that.

The battle had lasted all night and well into the morning before it finally ended. The extent of the destruction was widespread and massive. Even now, the death toll continued to rise as newscasters reported the events in a bewildered fashion.

Everyone in London knew at least someone who had died. No one could explain what had hit London. Certainly, the government wasn't revealing anything.

And how could they, when there was no explanation save that they were attacked because a maniac wanted to start a war for no reason and an egotist went over the edge to cleanse the world of heretics?

"Sir Hardwin…" a soft, but firm voice came from the shadows. Howard cut it off immediately.

"Your Majesty, I've been in your service for decades. I fought in the war Sir Integra so kindly mentioned. But this destruction was beyond anything I've seen. That monster was a part of it. It must be destroyed."

It grated on Integra's nerve that Howard referred to Walter as it.

"Walter will be under Hellsing's charge," she said testily, "We'll see that he doesn't cause trouble."

The Round Table became quiet when she said that. The name Hellsing was not something to be taken lightly and Integra did not bring it up often. Deep inside, the Knights were afraid of Hellsing. They left Hellsing to do the dirty work, knowing that they did not have the tenacity and courage to deal with the activities Hellsing was involved in daily, or more accurately, nightly.

Integra turned to the Queen and said respectfully.

"Of course, it is for Your Majesty to decide."

The Queen leant forward so that her face came into the light. Everyone saw that she was slightly bemused.

"You're asking for permission Sir Integra? It is vampires we're talking about, after all. Who else is more qualified to handle vampires than Hellsing?"

Then, she turned solemn.

"I give you three months. There will be no further discussion."

Integra thought she understood the Queen's meaning.

_That is all the leeway I can give you. After that, you must accept your failure._

Integra bowed her head and thought grimly.

_Walter, you cannot disappoint me._


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Cell

_Do not forgive me Father, for I have not sinned._

Anderson lifted his head and looked about his surroundings wearily. For a fleeting moment, he thought that he was back in the orphanage. No one could comprehend how much he loved the children, considering that he actually liked the cold-blooded work he did. No one knew how much he missed them. Anderson did not realise how much he would miss them himself until he was imprisoned. He prayed that they were safe in their little sanctuary, away from the filth and politics.

Pondering over his present predicament, Anderson became acutely aware, that the cell he was in was not enough to keep him. With his regenerative skills and immense strength, he could break out of it easily. It was a very tempting option.

However, although he was prepared to betray, no, execute Maxwell and deliver him to death, he was not yet prepared to go against the Church and his God. The Church was sometimes disgusting, even to someone as devout as he was. Then again, Anderson thought wryly, there were people who would say that his interpretation of his religion was unorthodox, or worse, sacrilegeous. Whatever the case, the Church was all there was for Lord's lambs to turn to.

Anderson would never show contempt for the Church, despite the mistakes they have committed, and the many skeletons he knew were kept locked in their closet. If they wanted to keep him in here, he would obey their orders and show his reverence to them by staying on.

So he continued waiting in the cell, until he lost track of time.

Lethargy sank in at first, and then a growing restlessness that Anderson tried to suppress to no avail. He wanted to do something, to see the children, to defend himself in front of the committee, to destroy vampires… Above all, he wanted to fight, well, it should be Dracula now, should it not? That damned arrogance… That look of certainty on his face that seemed to tell Anderson that he could kill Anderson anytime he liked, but he was only fighting him out of amusement. Anderson had to admit that witnessing the full extent of Dracula's powers was a terrible thing.

Anderson scowled, and looked out of the tiny window that was the only link he had with the outside world. In the end, they had left the fight unfinished because more from the Millenium had rushed in to attack, and separated them in the confusion. Anderson would find him again, as soon as he got out of this wretched cell.

The committee was certainly taking its time to decide on what to do with him. If Anderson was not mistaken, they were perplexed.

Anderson sighed. In his mind, he had not done anything wrong. But the Church did not agree.

He could imagine them whispering and wrangling their hands anxiously, agreeing that he should be punished, but what sort of punishment could they give him?

He was a unique case, and was unlike the other priests. They worried that excommunication would mean letting him loose and out of their control. It would result in the loss of an able servant and an added threat to the Church. On the other hand, they needed to set an example for other potentially wayward priests who thought they could judge their superiors and give whichever punishment they deemed appropriate.

Of course, Anderson mused. There was one way out of this. They could reprimand him and then… they could let him go. Let him return to the orphanage. Let him continue his work. Let him do whatever he had always done. They would still have him serve the Church.

But they would not dream of letting him off so lightly, would they?

"Do not forgive me Father, for I have not sinned.": Taken from Peter Barnes's _Revolutionary Witness_: The Preacher.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Basement

He spends most of his time in the cell. Although there is no light here, he can see. A narrow bed, an empty blood-pack lying limp on a table, and a door bolted with iron and sealed with magic.

There is not much in the room, but he does not mind. He misses nothing and desires nothing, nor does he tire of sitting on the bed the whole time.

His fingers twitch, and curl.

He has his dreams and memories, and his dreams are more intimate than his memories. He remembers, but is detached from the memories. He wonders how something so distant can belong to him. He much prefers his dreams, which are cold, pitiless, and calming.

A roar of an engine in his ear…

A jump from an aeroplane…

_The crush of dried leaves under his feet in autumn…_

"Hey, don't you need a parachute?"

_That turns into winter, and his feet sink into snow, pure and white…_

"Tastes like almond…"

_Until the blood drips down and stains it…_

"I don't like almond."

_Far away, a child's crystal heart shatters…_

"Well, well, what do we have here?"

_And the shards pierce the sky…_

"Round and round, a merry-go-round…"

_Lost laughter in the breeze, innocent and carefree…_

"Shadows move, you know…"

Becomes ragged and harsh…

"Opera has a way of beautifying a soul…"

Featureless faces, faceless victims, damned, tortured, hideous…

"Just much as screams can cleanse it…"

Can there be rainbows at night?

Somewhere, a city burns.

Sometimes, the dreams and memories clash and intertwine. It makes him weary, and he forgets which is a dream, and which a memory.

Someone is coming.

His attention becomes fixed on the door and he tries to figure out who his visitor is. It can only be one of three who visit him ever since he is kept in here.

One he remembers longest, one he remembers last, and one he remembers best. One in scorn, one in smiles, and one in sorrow.

Strange how easily he can sense emotions, but can experience none himself.

The door opens, and sorrow enters.

Integra.

As always, her cool expression does not reveal her feelings. She studies him first. Then, she starts pacing the floor.

"Seras told me that the latest test didn't work, Walter."

They call him Walter, and he remembers the tests that fail to restore him to the Walter they seek.

Walter C. Dornez.

Is he still not that man?

"Three months are almost up." There is a tremour in her voice. He wonders if she is weak.

"Do you know what it means?"

"Walter," she says slowly, "I can't protect you much longer. Her Majesty's giving us only three months' grace. If you don't come back, they will kill you. Do you understand?"

He stares at her, seeing, unseeing, uncomprehending.

"Say something!"

He can. He supposes he can. He remembers the words. If he tries, he can open his mouth, move his tongue, and say something. He simply does not know what to say or why he should say anything.

Integra moves toward him. When she kneels in front of him and places her hands on his knees, his forehead creases into a slight frown. A leader does not kneel to a butler. He knows the protocol.

A greater disturbance occurs. She buries her face in his lap and weeps.

His trousers are getting wet, he thinks dully.

Then the memories rushed back to haunt him, fragmented, jarring, clear. So clear and bright they hurt.

_He is fifty. She is four. She cries soon after Lady Hellsing's funeral, not understanding why the horrible men have put her mother in the dirty soil while she is sleeping._

He is fifty-nine. She is thirteen, crying for the loss of Sir Arthur.

Both times, he is in her bedroom. He sits on the edge of her bed, patiently pats her head as she cries into his lap and says, "Don't cry, Miss.".

It is a secret between them. They do not mention or refer to the incidents in any way, but they remember.

This, he thinks, is at least something he is familiar with.

Lifting his hand slowly, he pats Integra's head. She is older and taller, but the hair still feels the same.

She has beautiful hair, he muses, soft and light to the touch. It caresses his fingers lovingly, like sea waves that wash over one's feet.

He gazes at her when Integra looks up, surprised, uncertain, hopeful.

"Walter?" she calls him plaintively.

He whispers, "Don't cry, Miss."

There is a flash of pain and longing in her eyes. He does not mean to mock her or his former self.

What she sees must upset her, because more tears trickle down her face. He knows that if he licks those tears, they will taste salty.

Oddly, he also knows what she has seen. His eyes are as empty as his feelings. No sympathy, no hate, no affection, no lust.

He suspects that that is not what she wants.

"Don't cry, Miss."

Integra stares at him for a while. Composing herself, she smiles sadly.

"At least you have your memories. That's good, isn't it, Walter?"

He does not respond, and she places her head back onto his lap.

Maybe one day, he will tell her about the dreams.

For now, it will do to continue patting her head and asking her not to cry, this time, for him.

A/N: It isn't explicitly shown that young Integra has ever cried in the manga. She does cry in the anime in Order 10, both as a child and when she is undergoing the operation. I tried not to make her sappy. Integra is definitely not, not, not sappy.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Rooftop

It was an understatement to say that it was bad time to be in London. Although the city was beginning to repair itself, it remained a mess, and everyone was either distraught or grim. They were just trying to pick up the pieces and move on. No one was truly happy, except for one. He was none other than Alucard.

The vampire was currently enjoying the night skies and the London view from the rooftop of the Hellsing headquarters.

He had not felt this free, this alive, since he had been captured and bound by Abraham to serve Hellsing and its descendents.

After one hundred years, Alucard was himself again. His real self. He had returned as the Count. Dracula. Vlad Tepes. Of course, there was that niggling fact that his powers today were considerably greater than he could ever have dreamed to achieve, due to Hellsing's 'assistance' and experimentation. But Alucard easily waved that thought away. He was free of all restraints, and he wasted no time in revelling in his freedom and power.

Yes, he was infinitely pleased with the world. The night skies were clear and the round moon glowed with icy beauty. He could stare at the skies all night, intoxicated. The terrifying view of London before him was a bonus.

His mood was slightly marred when he heard the sound of an engine. Looking down, he saw Integra leave the headquarters. He spied her refusal of the new chaffeur's offer of driving her. Then he saw her enter the car and drove off herself.

Alucard wondered at her recent behaviour. While she was still the same Sir Integra in front of her colleagues and even the Queen, Alucard knew better. Integra had not been sleeping much. He could hear her pace about in her bedroom during the night and it disturbed him. There were shadows under her eyes and she was a good deal paler now.

"I shall try not to get drunk on my own power," he had informed Integra drily. She had told him that she would allow his powers to be kept unrestrained for a few more days in anticipation of further attacks and to cull the remaining monsters left hiding in London.

She had merely scoffed at his witticism, and had not made any sarcastic or defiant remark as she was wont to do. Even the policegirl had shown more displeasure at his callous conduct to the people in London than Integra, which was unusual. To think Seras had been happy at first to see him return. She was always in awe of him. But then, she had also called him an unfeeling bastard later on. He put her boldness and lack of submissiveness to the mercenary inside her, and smiled to think that his prodigy had grown up.

Nevertheless, his attention was on Integra and he was disturbed. If not for the reticence and determination in those blue eyes, Alucard would seriously wonder if it were someone else who was parading as Integra at Hellsing.

She was in pain, that much he knew. He could sense it in her movements and her voice. Not physical pain, that was well taken care of by the doctors. Besides, physical pain would never bother Integra.

It was something else. Alucard knew it was partly because of Walter. He could have told her not to bother with him, and had suggested that she bound Walter to Hellsing just like what Abraham had done to him. But she had yelled at him in anger and dismissed him.

Foolish sentimentality. He did not think Integra capable of that. But she was human. Frighteningly so. Sometimes, he forgot. He kept thinking of the potential she had to be an all-powerful vampire based on her immense strength and will that he overlooked her other aspects. Aspects like sympathy and care and love for other humans. Aspects like her complete faith humanity. Pathetic humanity, in short.

_"Don't look down on humans."_

He had not been there when she was fighting those vampires, but the link between them enabled him to know what she had been through that night.

Her smile and sadness when Penwood and his men chose to stay in their headquarters.

Her order to Walter to come back no matter what.

Her insistance that the Iscariot people escort her back to Hellsing.

He knew her, yet could never understand why she believed in humans so much even after what she had seen in her young life.

The betrayal of her uncle.

The cowardice of the Round Table.

The greed of men who sacrificed other unworthy lives for the promise of immortality.

Surely she would come round. Alucard convinced himself. She would definitely come round. And then, he would claim her for his own absolutely.

Satisfied with his analysis, he decided to return his attention to the night-skies. He did mean to enjoy his freedom whilst he had the chance.


End file.
